


Your Eyes Are So Beautiful

by orphan_account



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Blood, Drugs, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Punching, Strangulation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6654691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Jack can’t have Rhys’ body, then no one will. Not even Rhys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Eyes Are So Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> This was kind of a vent drabble, in a way. I’ve been wanting to write some badwrong Rhack for a while. It’s honestly just barely even Rhack. I’d say this is more in line with canon than anything, what would really happen if Jack got his body back.
> 
> I’ve been listening to a lot of Stateless lately.

Rhys was always ambitious, always wanting to climb higher and higher until he was at the very top. It'd always been in the plan from the start, hadn't it? To get exactly where he was standing right now, on the very precipice of controlling everything. Controlling _everyone_. He didn't need Vaughn, he didn't need Fiona, he didn't need Sasha, he didn't need _**anyone**_. No one but Jack. Because Jack had gotten him here, the wherewithal of just his very presence getting him to this point.

But now that he was here, it felt _off_. It felt _different_. _**Jack**_ was different. It was wrong. The moment he'd slipped out of his head and into Hyperion's systems, everything changed. He offered everything on a silver platter but it came on the condition of his life, giving up his body to Jack. Rhys didn't ask for this, but he'd gotten it anyway. Now he was throwing it to the side because it just wasn't the way he planned.

_And Jack didn't like that._

It took Rhys several, several minutes to piece together what Jack was doing. He kept telling him to be prepared, to not go anywhere. Not that he could anyway, he was trapped in this stupid chair, the dopamines keeping him on a high that left him content to stay right where he was. There was danger coming. He could taste it on his drying tongue. But he couldn't find it in him to care, to move, to object. He just felt too good right now.

Before long, Jack came strolling into the office. Not the Jack of blue hues and flickering pixels Rhys had become accustomed to, but the _real_ Jack. The Jack with flesh and bones and anger and spite, albeit still artificial. This is what Jack had been telling Rhys to wait for, _this_ is what Jack was so damn excited about. But it wasn't the kind of excitement that was joyful. It was malicious, terrible, and every inch of Jack's masked face carried that horrible weight as he was suddenly in Rhys' face.

Rhys' brain was still swimming on its forced high as Jack curled one hand into a fist before driving it directly into the younger man's face. The burst of dull pain was just barely masked by the drug clouding Rhys' mind, numbing his senses. Another fist, another blow, more blood. Yet another. And another. Copper coated his dry mouth and clenched teeth, somehow leaving it even drier and stained with crimson.

Suddenly, Rhys was all too aware of simulated gravity pulling him to the floor, the cold ground nearly making him want to shiver. The weight of Jack's body was soon on top of him and Rhys was only distantly aware of the fear bubbling up within him as several more punches were thrown his way. The dopamine was still in his system, fading, but not fast enough for him to do anything more than struggle weakly and whimper.

“ _Wh-why_ , Jack?” Rhys finally found words as the blows stopped, but they burned and gurgled, the blood on his lips heavy and the pain a dull ache.

Jack breathed deeply, his mismatched eyes wide with anger and spite as they stared at the man below him, “I trusted you, kid. I did everything-- _**everything**_ for you!! I got you here. I offered you _everything_. _And you just want to throw it all away?!_ ”

It wasn't supposed to be like this. All Rhys wanted was to feel like he was in control of his life, of his own fate. But as Jack towered over him with a terrible need for murder, he was anything but in control.

The sensation of Jack's large, bloody hands were now wrapping about Rhys' throat as he growled, “I wanted your body and you just refused. We could've ruled together. So if _I_ can't have your body, _**then no one can.**_ Not even _**you**_.”

Rhys could feel the warm sensation of tears brimming in his eyes, the liquid slipping past as he croaked, “ _Please, Jack_... I looked up to you. I practically _worshiped_ you. _It doesn't... Have to be like this._ ”

There was no response, the air flowing into Rhys' lungs suddenly being cut off as Jack tightened his fingers around his throat. He was _really_ meaning to kill him, trying to snuff the life out of him, and Rhys just couldn't find the right energy to fight him off. His chest was burning, _begging_ for oxygen, his eyes wide and growing terrified.

“J-Jack..! _Wait..._ ” Rhys groaned somehow past the crushing force of Jack's hands. Slowly, his left hand moved up to Jack's face, brushing shaking fingertips against his masked cheek, the mask itself feeling more real than Rhys had anticipated.

As if it somehow mattered, Rhys slowly felt a smile tugging at his lips and it gave Jack a small pause, his grip lessening. His prominent eyebrows threaded together, his breaths long and deep as Rhys continued to drag his eyes over the older man's face.

“Your _eyes_...” Rhys began slowly, a ragged breath finally seeping down his throat. “ _Are so beautiful._ ”


End file.
